


First

by misszeldasayre



Category: Divergent (Movies), Divergent Series - Veronica Roth
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, First Kiss, Holidays, Romance, Snow, Snowball Fight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-20 00:47:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13135641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misszeldasayre/pseuds/misszeldasayre
Summary: To celebrate the first snowfall of the season, Tris joins forces with Tobias in an epic snowball fight against Eric. But when Tris gets caught alone in the snow by Eric, she must confront feelings for him that she's been pushing down in order to win the game.





	First

**Author's Note:**

> AU: set after Divergent as if the events of Insurgent and Allegiant never occurred.

I wake to find Chicago dusted in snow, the first storm of the season. My first snow without Caleb. When we were younger, we watched for the first snowfall like cats combing the trees for birds: falling leaves, bare branches, gathering clouds. We couldn't play in the snow, but I liked the crunch of ice underneath my boots on the path to school. Mother commemorated the shift in seasons with a little sugar at breakfast, reserved normally for baking. The game Caleb and I played? Whoever guessed the closest date earned the other's spoonful of sugar at breakfast that day.

This morning, I scoop an extra spoon of sugar into my tea, yet this new winter melts bitter on my tongue. Today, I miss home just a little more than usual. I try to choke it down— such weakness isn't befitting of Dauntless— but it sticks in my throat, even as Christina chatters in my ear between bites of her muffin.

"Earth to Tris! Are you even listening?" Her skeptical expression already anticipates my answer.

"Um, just thinking," I say. Talking doesn't come easily to me around her anymore, not after losing Will. After shooting Will. But Christina prattles on, and I'm grateful she doesn't expect a reply.

"I said, forget training today!" At this, I wrinkle my nose. "See? I knew you weren't listening when you kept stirring your tea. Today we fight!"

"Fight?" The idea turns my stomach. I can't fight, not after—

"Lynn wouldn't tell me anything else," says Christina. "But we'll find out soon enough. Hey, are you going to eat that muffin?"

My appetite gone, I push my plate towards her.

* * *

The newest members of Dauntless cluster around Eric and Four. It almost feels like old times. Yet the Will-shaped hole in my heart reminds me that Dauntless has changed. I have changed.

"The first snow fell last night," Tobias announces. "Dauntless celebrates the beginning of winter with a tradition dating back many years. In true Dauntless fashion—"

"We fight," Eric interrupts. The gleam in his eyes in unmistakable, even from a distance. He's baying for blood.

Looking around our group, I see Eric's not the only one to confuse aggression for courage. The Dauntless gathered around him whoop and holler at the declaration. Us transfers shuffle, trading confused glances. What makes the first fight of winter a celebration?

"The objective is simple," Eric explains, his lip curling. "The first of two teams to tag all of the opposing team's members with snowballs wins. One hit and you're out."

"A snowball fight?" Christina laughs.

"Not just any snowball fight," Lynn says. "A Dauntless snowball fight."

When Tobias picks me first for his team, no one is surprised, least of all me. He smiles as I emerge from the clump of Dauntless to stand by his side. Out of spite, Eric selects Christina next for his team. His frown hints that even on his team, she won't be safe from torment. But Christina's used to dealing with Eric by now. She just rolls her eyes and shrugs as she walks by me. I wish I had her to work alongside today, if only to put a buffer between me and Tobias. Avoiding him takes superhuman effort, and that's when I'm not on his team.

It's not that he's done anything wrong— Tobias has been nothing but friendly. Too friendly. After the Erudite simulation, it's been hard for us to jump back into our regular rhythm. It feels wrong, flirting with Tobias as Will lays in the ground and Christina still cries herself to sleep some nights.

I can't tell Tobias this. He's lost people before. He won't understand. But I also can't pretend that I'm okay. So I avoid him at meals and during free time, throwing myself into training with every spare second I get. I will become faster and stronger so that I don't have to hurt anymore. I don't want to. I must be able to stay in control during a fight, always maintaining the upper hand.

Tobias can sense there's something off, but he waits patiently for me to work through it. He'll be on the other side waiting for me, but instead of reassuring me, that knowledge makes me feel trapped. I wait for the familiar burn of my muscles to drown out my worry.

Training has broken me down and built me back up. Whatever this snowball fight requires of me today, I am strong. I am ready. Even if I don't know where Tobias and I stand, I do know that we will lead our team to victory. Facing us, Eric doesn't stand a chance.

Eric.

He's an unpredictable fighter, I've learned that much in the training ring. But his coldness is predictable, his calculating nature almost familiar. He's the only Dauntless who spends more time down there than me. We've sparred occasionally, when there's no one else to challenge us late at night or early in the morning; despite his height, I can still knock him down if he steps off-balance. Fighting him dozens of times in the last few months will pay off for me and my team tonight.

As we tug on thick puffy coats and gloves, preparing to head out of compound, I catch Eric's eye. He smirks, pulling a beanie over his close-cropped hair. A challenge.

While I wind a scarf around my neck, I wonder what he and I could accomplish by fighting on the same team. As formidable as Tobias is, I imagine that Eric and I could obliterate him. At the thought, I shake my head. Today I'm working against Eric, not for him. Today I must be ruthless in order to come out the victor.

* * *

We ride the train out to an abandoned section of town where the snow coats the streets, devoid of footprints except our own. The familiar Ferris Wheel rises up from the fog. Covered in white, its carts look alien, like forgotten memories from another life. Was it really last summer that I climbed it to beat Eric's team at Capture the Flag?

"The snow is your weapon," Tobias barks once our team huddles around him. "Hit a member of the opposing team and they're out. Last person standing wins for their team. Build a central fort. Stockpile ammunition and pick them off when they come to us." One nod, and our team scatters.

Then he turns to me. "How should we launch a surprise assault on our enemies?"

Eying the Ferris Wheel, I shrug. "We can't climb high— it's too slippery. Plus we won't see much though these clouds." As I speak, a few flakes drift lazily from the sky, prickling as they land on my nose. "I think we should outlast them. Let them make the first move, pick off most of their attack force, and follow one of their only surviving members back to their base."

Tobias lights up, leaning towards me before remembering himself. "I could— Thank you, Tris."

Hector, Lynn, and Marlene have already started heaping snow against an old carnival games booth. Tobias and I get to work rolling snowballs. My hands numb eventually, despite the gloves, but the pain keeps me from thinking about how much Will would've loved this. Or what Eric and his team might be doing now.

* * *

By the third hour, my whole body aches for a mug of tea and a blanket in bed. We've managed to pick off thirteen Dauntless— at least half of Eric's team— but the game drags on. I'm starting to think that a spoon of sugar is the only appropriate way to celebrate the first snow.

As I wander into enemy territory, long having abandoned the safety of the fort for a chance at picking off enemy stragglers, I imagine how Caleb might be spending his day. Carrying on with his work, no doubt. The Erudite have no time for childish games. Maybe he hasn't even noticed it's snowing.

Too wrapped up in my own thoughts, I nearly miss the snowball hurtling towards my face. Only a quick dodge to the left prevents the ice from colliding with my teeth. My assailant, bundled up in winter gear, peeks out from the alleyway ahead.

There's no mistaking the scowling pierced brows, the thick black tattoos snaking up beneath the collar of his coat. When Eric recognizes me underneath my scarf, his whole demeanor shifts. His defensive crouch straightens into a convincing imitation of carelessness, shoulders easing and chest thrown back. Only the tightness around his jaw indicates he's still primed to attack.

"Well, well," Eric gloats. "If it isn't a stiff."

I bite my lip until it tastes of metal and rage. Responding will only egg him on. So I keep my attention on the lines of his body, preparing to launch a snowball at the first sign of movement.

He notices my cold determination and chuckles. "Relax, Stiff. If I wanted you out, I could've already hit you."

I'm not so sure about that, but I wipe the glare off my face. "Why haven't you hit me then?"

His grin spreads, reminding me that this man enjoys not just victory, but the hunt. Today, however, I refuse to become his prey. When he steps closer, I stifle a shiver. His piercings glint in the muted light.

"The question is," he says, closing the gap between us, "is why haven't  _you_  hit me yet?"

My gloved hands dig deeper into the snowballs, so hard that they shatter. Slush drips through my fingers and splatters the drifts below. Eric laughs sharply. Cursing myself, I scramble backwards— a few steps between us and I could bend to collect more powder, pack it tight, and take my aim…

Yet the man before me reminds me that if I stooped, he'd hit me before I had a chance to return fire. For a moment, I am well and truly defenseless.

The frost fades away, replaced by a thick mat and a scoreboard. It's like we're training again, just the two of us fighting to prove our place in this ruthless faction. In this broken society.

A few errant snowflakes blow into my eyes, and I shiver, returning to reality. Although Eric holds all the snow now, if I play my cards right, perhaps Tobias' team will win the game.

So I resist the urge to fight my way out of the corner Eric's backed me into. He nods towards the alleyway. "After you," he says. As I walk to the edge of the carnival booth he used as a shield, I half-expect to feel a snowball thud into my back, but it never comes.

When we're tucked away from the rest of the white city, out of range from any teammates who might stumble upon us and rescue me, Eric ducks into an abandoned snack shack, gesturing for me to join him without ever losing a grip on his ammunition. I follow. Once inside, he leans up against one of the walls to stare at me, rabid cruelty replaced by something else… curiosity?

"In Erudite, we celebrated the first snowfall each year by collecting samples of flakes on glass slides and taking turns examining them under the microscopes." He swallows. "What did your faction do to celebrate the first snow?"

His question takes me aback. Eric couldn't have surprised me more by launching a snowball into my gaping mouth.

"Come on, Stiff, every faction has a holiday tradition. Tell me yours or—" He hefts the snowballs in both hands. There's the old Eric. Somehow this reappearance of his conniving self is more reassuring than whatever has just spoken now.

"A spoonful of sugar. At breakfast, in our porridge." I don't know how to explain why I miss it so much. Eric makes no move to break the silence. When words begin bubbling up from my stomach, he makes no move to stem the tide. "Me and my brother Caleb, we used to bet our sugar on the first snow. For a while, he beat me almost every year. But those last few winters, I got him. Tricked him into making his guess first."

"You're good at that," Eric interrupts stonily. "Tricking people."

That unexpected attack knocks the air out of me. He could have hit me instead, should have hit me— the snowball would've stung less. This is unfamiliar territory, and suddenly I'm all too aware that I occupy the enemy's zone.

"Is that why you're training so much?" he continues. "Trying to cheat your way into beating me?"

This accusation baffles me. "I-I… Beating you?"

"What else would you be doing, hanging around the gym as often as you do? There are only so many people to spar with. The more you train with me, the more you learn how to exploit my weaknesses. The more prepared you think you'll be to take me down. Well, look where that got you now, huh? Nowhere to run."

The only reaction to an assumption so absurd is to laugh. Anger clouds Eric's eyes as I bark, but it only draws out the humor of the situation. "Take you down?" I repeat once my laughter has ebbed. Something harder, colder replaces the mirth, edging my throat with steel. "You really think that's why I train? God, you really are a selfish ass."

Eric's mouth cracks open, but I raise my voice.

"Never thought I might be trying to make up for years of life in Abnegation, trying to keep up with my new faction? Never thought I have to work doubly hard to prove my place among the Dauntless? Never thought there might be thoughts I'm avoiding, people I'm avoiding as I train?"

I mentally smack myself. I've said too much. As I clamp my mouth closed, I catch a glimpse of satisfaction twinkling in my opponent's gaze. Sure enough, he crows, "So you  _have_  been avoiding Four!"

His glee grates. "Doesn't take an Erudite to figure that out," I snap. He laughs, once again reclaiming the upper hand. Even a simple conversation turns into a war between us.

"Pretty boy can't please you?" he says, eyes probing for a response. To irritate him, I simply press my mouth into a thin line and imagine myself turning into a bird, joining the flock on my collarbone and beating our way to freedom.

"So you may not be coming to the gym to discover my weaknesses," he says. "But you have been coming to see me."

My cheeks flush and I feel like a new recruit again. Why can Eric get under my skin like this even after several months? When I shake my head, his arrogant sneer twitches.

"Come on, Tris, just admit it. You like training with me."

"I like the challenge."

He grins, gesturing to himself. "Is that what you call this?"

"In your dreams."

"Yes," he agrees. The innuendo isn't lost on me. Biting my tongue has never been my strong suit, but I manage to choke back a barrage of insults.

"Why don't you just hit me and get it over with? I could be back at the Pit warming up with tea instead of listening to your delusions of attraction."

Before my mouth snaps shut, he pushes me into the cold metal wall, shoving a snowball to rest against my chin. His shot is clear. "Careful, Stiff. You forget who you're talking to."

I make a show of examining his face, every inch. "Nope, same bully who'll do anything to win."

Whether his cheeks redden from the cold or my remarks, I can't tell. "Like you're any different. Don't play dumb, Tris. We both know you aren't. You've had a number of opportunities in the last ten minutes to get a round off on me, knock me flat on my ass, and cram a snowball down my throat. The enemy captain, boom down, just like that." The snap of his fingers crackles in the muted air. He's so close his breath fogs against my mouth. "Don't tell me you like it here."

This pins me to the wall even as his hands disappear. I'm free to go, yet something in his tone renders me powerless. The question behind his assertions. One I'm not ready to answer yet.

Maybe tomorrow I'll address that. Tonight, I'm going to win.

Now I let myself look at him, allow a smile. Then I step forward, bridging this new gap between us, and wind one hand around his neck. His warmth radiates through my gloves. Eric freezes at the contact, his bravado seeping away into the fog, leaving a boy with a tattooed neck pouring his heartbeat into my palms.

When I lean in, my lips brushing his, his pulse accelerates as if he were zip lining across Chicago. My stomach drops the way it does while I leap off the train. In those breaths, I forget about tea and shelter from the wind. The warmth from his body pressing into mine fends off the chill.

In that moment, we are courageous.

But snow cannot last when it faces the heat, and neither can this moment. When I peel away, a cloud passing in front of the sun, we're caught in this stunned silence. The sheer audacity of the kiss sings in our Dauntless veins and right then, I know we're bound together by something more than faction.

It almost hurts when I wrench the packed ice from his hand and hurl it at his chest. Point blank, he doesn't stand a chance. As the snow ricochets off his coat, Eric doesn't move. I gulp; he won't stay paralyzed for long. His customary rage is sure to follow.

As he finally moves, all he does is pat me on the head— a patronizing gesture so different from our sudden, fragile intimacy. "There it is," he sighs almost ruefully. "Signature Tris." Turning to walk away, he flips me off. "Happy snowfall, Stiff."

Eric dissolves into mist as he walks into the clouds, the snowflakes falling more rapidly now. "Happy snowfall," I call, but as I peer into the fog, my words return, cold and empty, leaving me quiet and confused.

In Abnegation, I celebrated the first snow with sugar in my porridge. In Dauntless, I celebrate the first snow with victory and the lingering taste of gunpowder and coffee pressed against my lips.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for firelord65's Eris holiday challenge. Check out the Eris 2017 Holiday Event on AO3 for more winter goodness featuring Tris and Eric!


End file.
